


I sell meats.

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a fourth time. And a fifth time. And a sixth time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I sell meats.

The first time you come for Zacharie when the shop is closed, he's not surprised, but you find his kisses surprising. You expected brutality and roughness, not the warmth he embraces you with. He laughs a lot, but all of it is playful. His hands go to your ribs and you expect scratches and bruises while you fight at his neck trying to make some kind of monster come out, but he almost tickles you brushing against your skin. Afterwards, he lets you have most of the blankets.

Not like you stay the night, though.

In the daylight, all of that is gone, and Zacharie is a clothed mystery once more. He greets you the same as always. The way he says your name seems to have changed - that is to be expected after he has said it between your legs - nonetheless, something has changed. Maybe it's the tone, does it sound more knowing? 

The specters don't change. Neither does your mission. The day after the first time you crawled into Zacharie's bed passes productively.

The second time, the door is unlocked, you walk in, and he laughs daintily. He holds out a cup of steaming coffee to you, a mug for himself in his other hand, so you sit with him and don't ask how he knew you would be back. You play footsie with him while drinking coffee that is, admittedly, delicious, and it strikes you that this scene is too disturbingly familiar. No guilt comes knowing you should be doing this with another person, but playing footsie with Zacharie brings up a bitterness in your mouth that isn't from the drink. So you stand up, give him back his mug of delicious coffee, and walk out. He cackles behind you.

Of course you're back the next night.

Impatient, straying hands lead to the cups being eventually abandoned. You keep your pants on for as long as possible, and you think you are stripping him far more than you are yourself. Yet, you're naked when he still has his mask on. For another night, you are vulnerable, and he is sweet, and you try to bite him open for something stronger than black coffee.

It is the same in the morning. As in, another very small thing had changed. The bottoms of his pants are rolled up. Is this code for something? Or did he decide to dress that way on a whim?

The brown skin of his ankles winks at you from between his socks and pant cuffs. For some reason this sliver of skin makes you embarrassed; you mumble when you ask for some meat. He leans in quite close, this is definitely _definitely_ intentional, crosses his ankles, and tells you the price even though you have this memorized by now. You gulp down some glob of emotion stuck in your throat as you exit that damn merchant's shop.

There is a fourth time. And a fifth time. And a sixth time.

He calls you Batter and nothing filthy. His tender kisses don't leave purple on your shoulder. His warmness melts you until you come on the ninth day without a thought of dragging your nails across his skin for a similar response. It's always on his bed that you do anything, because he always brings you to the bedroom first instead of pushing you down on some counter or against a wall. His lips on yours ask for affection, and that is change in itself, despite the fact that he has been treating you so softly since day one.

You don't return the thirteenth night, because you are bleeding and forcing meat into your mouth. The ghosts are purified. You are not. You sit there for long hours breathing horribly and coughing up blackness. The supplies you bought earlier leave your body in a greenish puddle on the ground. It stinks like your skin as you lay next to it for most of the horrid night, holding back worse things.

Zacharie finds you. The Judge meows on his shoulder and says something boring and pretentious.

Maybe he drags you back to his shop. Maybe he flies. Back in the store, it doesn't matter.

You slump in a corner and stare at your savior. The rippling sensation in your flesh and bones lurches into your throat. You growl at him. He rolls up his sleeves.

Somehow, the man gets you in a bathtub. The tatters of your clothes hang from racks on the wall, soon to be repaired (seemingly, by Zacharie) and laid out for you to wear and damage again. He scrubs your back and your feet, he scrubs behind your ears and in your hair, he scrubs you of blood and of vomit. He's as gentle as ever with your body while kneading the knots out of your back. The intimacy isn't any different, but it's just as incredible. After washing your hair, he undresses and joins you in the water. It's so he can reach you better instead of breaking his back to lean over, and it's also so you can make out with him.

The damp air smells lovely, and, as the water soaks into you, it drains out your weariness. Your tired bones beg you to rest and you do, leaning against Zacharie and letting him play with your hair. His fingers caress your scalp soothingly. The warm water must have lulled you to sleep, because you wake up in a bed wrapped in blankets.

Something wretched is breaking in you.

Anyone else would feel they owe him at least a thank you for, basically, nursing them back to health, but such things are difficult for you. Zacharie must be trying to fuck with your mission. He's screwing with you, of course. This is the obvious explanation for why he serves you tea and gives as much cryptic advice as the Judge, the obvious reason for why he is fucking you.

For one dreadful week, you avoid the merchant, fighting brutally through haunted areas. By then, you can't help but walk by and peek into his windows. He waves, and your arm is already opening the door for you.

There's nothing sexual this time. There's still a few more business hours for his shop. You sit cross-legged on the tile next to his counter, like a dog besides the Judge. Zacharie does his work as usual. The Judge leaps into your lap, so you absentmindedly stroke the animal.

"How does the mission fare, Batter?" the cat asks.

"Good," you say.

The Judge rattles off something long that means he thinks that is splendid. You grunt in reply back at the cat, who goes back to purring.

Business is slightly entertaining. Some terrified Elsen venture into the store every once in a while before deciding Zacharie's grin is too much of an adventure for them. They go stumbling back out into the street, and it makes you itch to swing at them. Their putrid hollowness wafts by like the trail of injured prey. It fills you with a vicious, determined hunger - to purify, that is. However, you have a feline in your arms to deal with, so you abstain.

Which you also do with Zacharie. At the end of the day, he invites you to his bedroom; you follow. The both of you collapse into the covers and tangle fabric and limbs together. He tells you "goodnight, Batter," and you watch him fall asleep next to you. Zacharie snores.

When you are sure he is fast asleep, you rise and sneak out the bedroom. Sneaking is easy for you, a developed habit over the nights grown off of the natural silence of your prowl. Once at the store front, your eyes go to the door, but that wretchedness in you holds you back. You retrieve your bat from the wall you left it leaning against and start snooping around.

The first time you went to Zacharie you had no intention of sex. You planned to kill him. He was suspicious and might even pose a threat, unlike the scrawny cat. So you arrived at his doorstep with your weapon on hand, and somehow you left with him still alive. "Somehow" meaning you didn't even swing at the merchant. "Somehow" meaning you suddenly had a schedule of showing up on his doorstep every night from then on.

For an hour you dig through boxes and cartons hoping to find something to pinpoint for why this man makes you afraid. Deep under layers of murderous intent, you find yourself afraid of a merchant with a silly laugh in a mask. Does he sell to the Guardians? That would explain why few customers actually show up and his shop moves so much. This could mean, if he found out your sacred purpose, the Guardians could be alert to your duty and goal. Is he a Guardian of a Zone himself? If he was, you figured he'd be the Guardian of meat. He has enough to sell, as it is.

You don't attempt to steal anything. He would know immediately. The thing is, he wouldn't be mad. He would know you took without paying, and he wouldn't say a goddamn word. You could swing the stolen meat in front of him, and you wouldn't even know if he blinked because of that GODDAMN terrifying mask. Because he is a prick and wants to frustrate you. As well as kiss you, too.

The bats he sells to you are stashed in a umbrella holder. You stare at them without greed but wonder if he would notice if you tried them out. Finally, you give in and grab a sturdy looking, well made bat that catches your eye. It swings with ease and nestles in your hand beautifully. As you admire the weapon, Zacharie taps on your shoulder from behind you.

"What are you doing awake?" he whispers. The blue room echoes with his voice. You're caught red-handed (doing what? Playing with bats? Why are you vilifying yourself in your own head?), and you think, does this mean he doesn't want me to come back in bed? Vaguely, you remember he owns an amusement park, which you stole from too. Then you notice.

His mask is off.

You swallow. "Why are you a merchant?" is the first useless response that comes to mind.

He laughs.

"I sell meats to you. That is my purpose."

"I don't understand."

"What isn't there to understand, Batter? I sell meat."

He stands closer to you but it's nothing like the second day. He taps his feet on the floor until you drop the bat. 

It clatters to the ground and rolls away. "Don't be scared of me, Batter. I'm just a merchant."

In the darkness, Zacharie does look scary, but not in the impure way. Which terrifies you the most. He is no visible monster without his mask.

He looks just like a human. No Elsen features. Nothing dark and horrifying clawing under the surface. His two eyes are brown and the hair above them is a thick black, and he looks a bit disheveled, simply because his sleep was disturbed. The sweater he always wears hasn't been swapped out with any pajamas, and you know there cannot be any secrets under his clothes, no extra limbs, wings, or tentacles. His pants are unbuckled. His socks are matching. Compared to his body, his feet are small, just like the eyes under his eyebrows.

"I don't understand," you repeat.

"I sell," he says, "ham."

You have to kill Zacharie, right now.

The man in front of you lets out of a heavy sigh and puts his arm around your shoulder before you can make a move towards the umbrella holder. "Let's just go back to bed, Batter. Leave Hugo for another day, hm?"

"I have to purify -" 

"Yes, you want to. Not me, though."

You let him guide you back to the bedroom and spend a full fourteenth with the merchant who knows exactly who you are. What you plan to do. Who you _were._ And doesn't do anything to stop you or help you, except with getting your clothes off and your credits in his wallet.

You will never know a damn thing about Zacharie, the masked merchant.


End file.
